


Just Something to Survive

by fruityandoaty



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: twd_kinkmeme, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruityandoaty/pseuds/fruityandoaty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Prompt: "The Governor captures them, and forces Rick to rape Daryl. Maybe his logic is that what act could be more awful for a man of the law to perform?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a specific time in mind. I imagine an AU season three, sometime after the Governor and Rick meet up to talk.

Rick kept thinking back on what he might have done differently. But in the end, didn't matter how they were captured, just that they were. Only thing that mattered now was getting out.

 

He might've wondered why the Governor was keeping him locked up in this little room, no interrogation, no pain, no contact. But Rick knew enough to know it was a tactic. Isolate them, Daryl and he, and then make them wait. Make them worry. Let the fear stew and then when the person was ready to crack, bring in the threat and the chance to avoid it. Good cop, bad cop. 

 

Rick had never been sure which role he played. 

 

He was ready when the Governor walked in, the door creaking like a warning as it opened. Not ready to play into his hands and beg for mercy. Not ready to resist torture.

 

_Ready._

 

Rick rushed him. He kept his head tucked down, his hands balled into fists. Element of surprise might've worked too. But Rick had been expecting a gun, one little thing to avoid and to grab for, to wrestle out of the Governor's hands. He didn't guess the threat would be something as simple as a baton rising up in the air and slamming down on his back. 

 

Crumpled on the floor and his one chance gone, Rick blinked up at his captor. The Governor smiled, slow and sure. “Now, Rick, you ready to stop this nonsense?”

 

Rick refused to speak, pushing himself up off the floor. Better to let the Governor talk to himself. He might reveal something useful.

 

“Good,” the Governor said as if Rick had bowed his head and apologized for the attack. He leaned in. “Because you've got a choice to make.”

 

Something settled in Rick's stomach, a warning that things just went from bad to worse. But he only watched and waited. 

 

“Now,” drawled the Governor, “I can walk over to that other room and put a bullet in your friend's brain.”

 

Did Rick's eyes narrow? Did his heart speed up so fast the bastard standing in front of him could hear it? Did the fear show on his face? Rick did his best to mask it all, tell himself this was just talk. But all he could see was Daryl's lifeless body and a world of potential gone with him.

 

“But you're a man of the law,” he went on to Rick. “You used to put a stop to things like this every day of your life, didn't you? So I think you ought to have the chance now. You wanna save Daryl's life, here's what you're gonna do...”

 

The words were accompanied by a growing buzz in Rick's head. He could see the Governor's lips moving, knew in a part of him what was being said. But the horror inside him came out as silence around him. 

 

Strong hands gripped Rick by the shoulders and walked him out of the room. A gun was pointed at his head for real this time. No chance of escape, as if he would run and leave Daryl here anyway. 

 

If Rick thought it'd spare Daryl what was coming he'd have let the assholes shoot him dead. But someone else – probably multiple someones – would just take his place. Daryl would never be free. At least this way they'd still be in it all together.

 

“Daryl,” Rick breathed as the next door opened slowly and there was his best friend in this world, face a mess with already-forming bruises and swelling. His hands were tied behind his back. No shirt, maybe broken ribs by the look of it. And one more thing: the fight in his eyes. It was still there. And Rick knew he was about to put it out.

 

“Leave,” the Governor nodded to his people. They put up a mild protest, suggesting Rick and Daryl were dangerous. But the Governor sent them away.

 

Good, Rick thought. Maybe he was underestimating them. But then again, maybe he just knew the power of cold steel in his hands, pointed at their heads.

 

Then the Governor was walking toward Daryl in a few swift feet.

 

“Hey!” Rick shouted. He moved just as fast to intercept. 

 

“Now, now... I'm not gonna hurt your boy here,” the Governor said softly as he reached out with one hand to cup Daryl's face. “Just wanna take a look at this job they did on him. Wouldn't want him passing out in the middle, would we?” Daryl jerked back and Rick waited for one wrong move to send him forward in a rush. Didn't matter if he got shot in the process. He wasn't letting the Governor touch any of his people again.

 

Rick gave Daryl credit. The man had balls. Daryl pulled back his head and he spat right in the Governor's face. 

 

The Governor went stone still. “Fine. Let's get on with it then.”

 

“Get on with what?” Daryl asked.

 

The Governor turned his head toward Rick. Rick was going to be sick. 

 

“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled at Daryl. It was the loudest he could get his voice. He had to do better, to sound sure and confident. For Daryl. “I promise I'll make it quick.”

 

Rick realized from the look of him that Daryl didn't have a clue. He thought they were talking about death here. Threats of death didn't scare Daryl. Just pissed him off. Sure enough, Daryl growled at the Governor, “Can't even do your own dirty work, huh?” 

 

The Governor smirked. “You're not really my type, son.”

 

Rick locked eyes on Daryl, trying to silently communicate as they so often did out in the world. But there was such naivety in Daryl's look that it hurt to see. Daryl was a fighter. A man who wouldn't mind dying so much if he went out in battle, if he died to save his friends. Daryl could take a beating like no other. But this... this degradation, that it could happen to him, wasn't even occurring. 

 

Rick felt tears prickle at his eyes.

 

Daryl went pale. “Rick...” he breathed. “What's happening here?” 

 

“It was the only choice,” Rick forced himself to say.

 

“What was?” Daryl demanded.

 

Rick swallowed back bile. “Take off your pants, Daryl,” he whispered. “Go bend over the table. It'll be over soon.”

 

Now he got it. Rick could see. Daryl's face twisted up in disgust and, still, disbelief. “Fuck you!” 

 

“Other way around, actually,” called out the Governor. “See, this isn't about you, boy. This here's between Rick and I. You don't matter. Just the thing he has to fuck, the thing that's going to prove to Rick that's he no different from me. Of course... it doesn't have to be you. Your group's without a leader right now. I could have my pick. Just send my people in and pluck someone else out. I'll leave it up to you. Should I go find that sweet little blonde girl, maybe? Or how about Glenn? Haven't seen him in a while.”

 

Rick knew better than to rise the bait. Rick knew exactly how this was going to go. Daryl, on the other hand, went still and tense. “You touch a hair on their heads, I'll cut off your dick myself.” 

 

Rick closed his eyes. Told himself that unlike Beth or Glenn, Daryl would get over this. Daryl could take what the world threw at him and come out the same man, just a little tougher for it. Rick wasn't going to destroy him.

 

“Daryl,” Rick spoke up before the Governor could add any more punishment to Daryl's body. “Please... don't make me fight you. Please. I don't wanna hurt you.”

 

What a fucked up thing to say, Rick thought. When he's about to... about to... Shit, Rick couldn't even think the word. 

 

Daryl looked as sick suddenly as Rick had been feeling. An animal trapped in a cage. The reality of the situation dawning on him. Rick imagined this was the type of thing Daryl was brought up to believe only happened to women. So what's it mean now? Daryl couldn't fathom this fate for himself, it seemed.

 

Rick knew he had to do something. He stepped up and clapped a hand down on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl flinched back and a stone settled in Rick's stomach. Already they weren't what they used to be. This was going to tear their friendship apart. But maybe that's all it would tear, Rick thought. Just as long as Daryl remained whole, Rick... Rick could live without Daryl by his side. If he had to.

 

Rick didn't back down. He kept his hand steady, brought it up to cup Daryl's neck and pull him in. Daryl's eyes went wide. _Shit_ , Rick thought. Daryl thought Rick was gonna kiss him. Instead Rick just touched his forehead to Daryl's. “You can do this,” he whispered. “I know you can.” 

 

Daryl stayed tense for another minute, but slowly his shoulders slumped. His breathing evened out. And something flashed in his eyes and hardened, and Rick knew he'd succeeded: it was now another fight, just like any supply run, a mission. Something that needed doing and so it'll get done. That's just how Rick and Daryl worked.

 

Slowly Daryl limped over to the table in the center of the room. Rick saw that his hands weren't _tied_ behind his back. They were cuffed.

 

Rick moved to help him out of his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. Rick's cock hardened and it was all he could do not to be sick at the groan building inside him as Daryl's smooth, pale ass presented itself to the room. 

 

The Governor's cold laugh brought Rick back to reality. “There's a good boy,” he called out. “See? Not so hard.” His eyes flicked to the bulge in Rick's pants. “Well, figuratively speaking.”

 

“Don't listen to him, Daryl,” Rick said. “Just me. Just my voice.” 

 

Rick was standing behind Daryl now and he placed his hand in the center of Daryl's back – to hold him there and to ground him. Rick wished it was more the latter than the former.

 

Daryl shuddered.

 

“Shh,” Rick murmured without thinking better of it. Daryl when he got back in his right mind would be offended if Rick babied him through this. Well... tough. Rick was gonna be as careful as he could.

 

“Just do it,” Daryl mumbled through clenched teeth, his face pressed into the table like he wanted to sink into it. 

 

He got what Daryl was asking. Don't make a big deal of it. Make it just something to survive. Didn't Rick owe him that much?

 

But Rick was freezing up. He couldn't stop the small circles he was rubbing on Daryl's back anymore than he could stop the flow of blood to below his waist at the way Daryl's warmth and his tensed muscles felt. Desperation boiled inside. Rick's eyes shifted around the room, over to the Governor, to the gun in his hand and the smile on his face, to the cold metal biting into Daryl's wrists and keeping him from being an asset to a fight. 

 

No wonder the Governor had thrown out his people, his guards. Rick and Daryl weren't a threat. Daryl... God, Daryl. What the hell was Rick doing?

 

Rick's eyes flooded and he couldn't see anything but a muted mix of colors around the darkened room. He choked on a sob. 

 

Daryl twisted his head around and it sounded like begging when he said, “Don't.” 

 

Don't what? Don't make this worse? Don't show weakness? That sounded like Daryl. But all Rick could hear was _don't do this to me_. That had to be in Daryl's mind. Or was it in Rick's mind that it was racing through, shouting out? 

 

“How about a little motivation?” The Governor walked closer and around the table so that he was facing Daryl head on. He'd see everything, every flash of pain and despair that crossed Daryl's face, Rick thought hopelessly. “Either you take him, and you take him now... or I get some real men in here to do it for you.” 

 

“Rick...” Daryl ground out, but it was just a little too high-pitched. Rick reckoned know one would know but him. But there it was: Daryl was scared. 

 

Rage replaced grief. Rick was going to kill the bastard. He was gonna do it slowly too. 

 

But right now Rick had to take care of Daryl. Only one way to do it. Rick had to rape him. 

 

The little four letter word released to fill his head now with its full meaning, Rick could move again. It was real. It was horrible and disgusting, but this was reality and Rick couldn't stand there like it was a nightmare.

 

He let go of Daryl and dropped his hands to the button on his jeans. Rick wasn't going to push them all the way down, just enough to let his cock free. But if Daryl had to be exposed, then so should he. Rick pushed down pants and underwear to around his knees. 

 

There. His cock was exposed to the air around them, cool in comparison to the heat his traitorous body was giving off. He was hard. Wouldn't have to do anything to get himself that way. For a second Rick considered pretending. He could jerk himself off, just enough to make it seem like he had to prepare. Let Daryl cling to the illusion that this didn't get him off all on its own. 

 

But no. That was just another way to waste time. Daryl had told Rick what he needed: he needed to get this over with, with some dignity intact. Okay then. No dragging it out. No words of concern. Okay. 

 

Rick took a shaking breath and took his heavy cock in hand to line it up with Daryl's entrance. The swollen head pressed up against pressure. And Daryl freaked out. 

 

The younger man (who wasn't really much different in age to Rick, but God did he _seem_ young now) gasped out loud, eyes scrunching shut. He pressed in closer to the table, just one inch further away from Rick and his cock trying to get inside. It suddenly occurred to Rick that Daryl, rough and loud and redneck and tough as nails Daryl, was innocent in this area. He'd never been taken by a man before. 

 

Rick shoulda guessed that. Those few nights when he'd let his hand wander to his cock and images of his friend had come into his head uninvited, Rick had just pictured a little physical comfort. He never stopped to _think_ about it. That with Daryl's background this was liable to be somethin' the man would never have considered back when the world was full of judging eyes and angry people. 

 

It didn't really make a difference anyway. This wasn't sex. This was force. Didn't matter if Daryl had been taking it up the ass for years, this time would still hurt, would still feel awful, would still make something horrifying and sickening bubble up inside them both. 

 

He'd never tell Daryl, but it made Rick want to protect him. Keep him safe. Wrap him up in Rick's arms. 

 

Instead, Rick was about to fuck him. He gripped Daryl by the hips. Definitely holding him down now. No illusion about it. Rick looked up and met the Governor's eyes. The other man grinned, nice and slow. Rick made a promise with his eyes: I will kill you.

 

And then Rick slammed his cock into Daryl's tight heat. There was resistance like hell and something was probably tearing inside Daryl, but Rick couldn't let it stop him. No way to make this good. No chance Daryl was ever going to relax. Just needed to get it over with.

 

Daryl shouted. Screamed, was more like it. But Rick was gonna give Daryl the dignity of calling it shouting. Just like he was gonna ignore the sob that rose up in the gasp Daryl took.

 

Didn't matter how _tough_ a man was, this shit would break him. Rick had seen it enough times, on enough victims of every age, sex, and race. He promised himself he could fix it this time. This time, he could help. He would put Daryl back together again when it was over.

 

In the meantime, Rick did the only thing he could do. He bent over Daryl, chest to back. He thrust between Daryl's legs and, God, was the man tight. It was almost painful. Shit. Rick had no right thinking that. Not when this really was agony for the man trying so hard to stay still beneath him. 

 

Daryl wasn't exactly succeeding. He kept shifting his hips like he wanted to push Rick right out of him. Rick could feel him trembling too.

 

Rick had no idea how long he fucked Daryl for. It was a parody of sex. He was intensely aware of the motions. Back and forth, in and out. Little breathy moans of pain kept escaping Daryl's mouth. 

 

Shit, why couldn't it be over already? Rick let his head fall, touching Daryl's shoulder. “I can't--” he tried to whisper and broke off. “I'm trying. But I can't.”

 

Rick hadn't said much, but Daryl got it. His response made Rick want to cry. Daryl started moving his hips. Just a little at first, then more so. He pushed back, pressing flush against Rick's own. He twisted in little movements that sent vibrations throughout Rick's whole body and would have just about killed him it felt so good in any other situation. But Rick got what was going on. Daryl wanted this over as much as him, more probably. 

 

Rick closed his eyes and tried to just feel. Not feel like he was about to throw up all over the cement floor, not feel like taking a gun to the Governor, not feel the way Daryl's shoulders rose and fell in sobs that he refused to let out. No, just feel Daryl. Rick let the heat engulf his cock and his mind and he came silently, going as deep as he'd been yet into Daryl. 

 

Rick collapsed forward, his weight on Daryl. 

 

“Well, well,” the Governor said from above them. “See? I knew you had it in you, Rick. Just like I said. You did a fine job with him.” He looked down at Daryl. “There now... It's over. You took it well.” He reached out and Rick saw his hand going to the top of Daryl's head.

 

Didn't matter if the Governor intended to snap his neck or just brush his fingers through Daryl's sweat-matted hair. Rick shoved himself off the table, pulling out of Daryl and not taking the care he should have. Daryl groaned, but lay limp on the table. “Don't you fucking touch him.” 

 

The Governor laughed. “No, I don't suppose I will. Used goods, after all.” He walked to the door, gun still carefully drawn. “You boys have earned a night. Sleep it off.” He smiled. “I'll be back first thing in the morning. It's time you and I tried that chat again, Rick. I think you'll see things more my way now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't *not* turn this into hurt/comfort with emphasis on the comfort. So read on if you need to see Daryl fixed after last chapter. However, if you lean more towards the “hurt” in hurt/comfort and were satisfied with the much darker last part you might want to skip this one as it's shameless fix-it material. ;-)

“Daryl,” Rick whispered as soon as the Governor walked out of the room. He didn't see any need to try the door. It'd be locked and armed guards were probably on the other side.

 

Daryl just lay there, eyes closed and breathing shallowly, and it was scaring the shit out of Rick. What should he do? How could he help? Rick tried to recall his training and every piece of knowledge he'd gained through experience on how to deal with rape victims. But Daryl wasn't some case he was working and could try to forget at the end of the day. He was _Daryl_ , Rick's Daryl. Hard-headed and probably dying of shame and liable to refuse any platitudes of comfort.

 

So Rick needed a new angle. Stop thinkin' of Daryl as a victim, first off. Daryl would hate that.

 

Okay, Rick thought. Okay. He breathed deep: a mistake. The smell of sweat and semen hit him hard even though it couldn't have been as strong a scent in the room as it seemed. Okay then, Rick thought again. That was his first step: clean Daryl up.

 

Rick looked around helplessly at the bare room. His only option was to reach down and tear the fabric on the underwear around his ankles, then pull what was left of them and his pants up. With the scrap of fabric he reached between Daryl's legs and wiped at his own come that was dripping down Daryl now.

 

Daryl jerked beneath Rick's touch.

 

“It's alright,” Rick said nice and slow. He put a hand on Daryl's back. “Just gonna get you fixed up.”

 

“Don't need your help,” Daryl mumbled, eyes still closed. It occurred to Rick suddenly that maybe Daryl couldn't stand to look at him.

 

But Daryl _did_ need his help and Rick was gonna do something about that. “Your hands are still cuffed. Just lemme clean you up... help you with your pants...” Rick's voice broke. “God, Daryl. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

 

“ _Don't_.” Daryl's eyes finally opened and there was steel in them, a wall coming down. “You did what you hadta.”

 

Rick nodded and wiped at his eyes. He reached down and gently-as-he-could yanked up Daryl's jeans and reached around front to button them. He couldn't help his hand brushing over Daryl's cock. Daryl sucked in a sharp breath and twisted out from under Rick's hands.

 

“Sorry,” Rick said quietly, all he could say.

 

Daryl turned around to face him, righting himself so he was standing now. He was still shirtless, still bound with hands behind his back. Bruises and swelling all over him, but Rick knew the worst hurt was in a place he couldn't see.

 

“Told you not to say that,” Daryl growled. “It's done. We ain't gotta talk about it.”

 

“Maybe we should,” said Rick. Did he really want to? Hell no. But he figured he owed it to Daryl. Whatever Daryl needed to do: rage at him, talk it out, sleep and forget except when the nightmares that would be there woke him, cry – God, Rick hoped Daryl didn't cry because he didn't think he could take seeing Daryl that broken and far gone. But if Daryl needed it, Rick would be there for him.

 

“Talkin' about it,” Daryl scoffed. “You sound like a goddamn woman. I ain't no woman.”

 

Rick knew what was going through Daryl's head. He knew better than to use a word like emasculation to describe it. Just make it worse to put it into voice.

 

“Okay,” Rick said softly, giving in.

 

Daryl nodded his head in a couple jerky movements to acknowledge it. He moved to stand against a wall and using his shoulder for support since he couldn't use his hands he slid down it to sit on the concrete floor. Instantly Daryl grit his teeth and winced. “Fuck.”

 

“You should lie down,” Rick said, never taking his eyes off the other man. “Take the weight off... off the injuries.” Best to keep it vague like that.

 

Daryl glared at him, but the mask faltered and Rick could see the hurt underneath. Daryl was aching everywhere and Rick needed to do something. Daryl was shaking as he tried helplessly to position himself so he could lie on his side, but with hands cuffed behind his back still there wasn't much way to get comfortable. He did the best he could, but Rick knew it wouldn't be enough to sleep in.

 

Rick walked over and dropped down next to him. “Let me help.”

 

It was something of a test. Could Daryl stand to be touched by Rick now? It was so selfish, the relief Rick felt when Daryl didn't flinch away as Rick reached out to lift his head off the ground and put it back down on Rick's leg as a little support. A pillow, if nothing else.

 

Rick pushed on Daryl's arm, getting him to angle his body against the wall. It wasn't the point, but it occurred to Rick that Daryl probably felt better with his back to a solid surface anyway.

 

“Thanks,” Daryl muttered almost too quietly to hear. Rick let his hand fall onto Daryl's shoulder and stay there.

 

To Rick's surprise, Daryl did go to sleep. Even in the awkward position the cuffs forced him to lie down in Daryl dropped right off into unconsciousness. The man always had a knack for sleeping in odd places and positions, just as much so as he had one for waking up at the drop of a pin. Both came in use when they were always on the run.

 

But now it was no time before exactly what Rick had expected happened: Daryl started dreaming. The first sign was the way he kicked out in his sleep. His shoulders were twisting like he wanted to use his arms to take a swing at someone or something. Then he started shouting out. Just the word _no_ , over and over.

 

Rick needed to wake him and to do it fast, but knew better than to touch Daryl in the process. He knew a touch, even a gentle one, would go straight into the dream and make Daryl even more frightened and trapped. So Rick did the only thing he could do. He started murmuring to Daryl. Not even paying attention to his words. They didn't mean anything. It was his tone that Rick hoped would soothe.

 

“Shh,” Rick murmured. “It's okay. It's over. Gonna be alright. Not gonna hurt you. No one's gonna touch you.”

 

Daryl's eyes flickered open. He didn't seem to be seeing anything that was actually in the room. His own private horror was going on behind reality.

 

“Come back to me, Daryl,” Rick said. “C'mon, you can do this.”

 

Daryl's eyes locked on Rick – and he flinched. His head fell off Rick's leg and hit the concrete floor. His face crumpled. For one terrifying second Rick really thought Daryl was about to start bawling. That was why Rick did what he did next.

 

Without thinking Rick reached out and pulled Daryl into a sitting position, into an embrace. Daryl stiffened. He just ain't used to being hugged, Rick thought, that's all. He's not scared. That seemed to be the truth because Daryl started to relax.

 

Encouraged, Rick rubbed a hand down Daryl's back in a soothing motion. When Daryl's head dropped onto Rick's shoulder, Rick kept up the motion. Up and down, back and forth. Just small circles on all that bare skin.

 

They were drifting off together when the gunfire sounded.

 

\---------

 

Rick and Daryl tried their hardest to get back to normal at the prison, after the rescue. But trying too hard just made everything worse. They worked together for the sake of the group, but they barely looked each in the eye.

 

The only one who knew what had happened was Hershel. He'd treated Daryl's injuries. Daryl had protested and it had taken Rick begging him to agree to it.

 

A month went by before Rick finally sought Daryl out on his own. Daryl was up in the watchtower, keeping an eye on the place as usual. He slept during the day and stayed up all night, minimizing his contact with anyone. Especially Rick.

 

But Rick knew where to find him. He saw Daryl's silhouette in the dark and cleared his throat as he came up behind him.

 

“Knew you were there,” Daryl grunted. “Remind me to teach you to walk quiet sometime.”

 

“I brought you something,” Rick said. He held out the offering: a water bottle and some crackers. Not much, but they were making a supply run tomorrow. They'd have more soon.

 

“Thanks,” Daryl said shortly. He sipped at the water and didn't touch the crackers. Rick knew he hadn't been eating much. Maybe they never made eye contact these days, but that didn't mean Rick had stopped paying attention.

 

They stood in silence. “We used to do this all the time,” Rick remembered out loud. “Just stand watch. No need to talk. Guess neither of us is much the type for unnecessary words.”

 

“So why're you talkin' now?” Daryl asked.

 

“Because now there are words that need saying.”

 

Daryl nodded. It was the most agreement Rick was gonna get from him.

 

“I can't let you slip away from me,” Rick started quietly. “I know that makes me selfish, but there you have it.”

 

“I ain't going nowhere,” said Daryl. “It's you that's been doing the avoiding.”

 

Rick flinched. Maybe that was true at least part of the time.

 

Daryl went on and Rick caught the edge in his voice. “Like you can't even fucking look at me anymore. Not since that night in the cell.”

 

It's the first time they'd mentioned anything about that time since Hershel asked and they gave the bare minimum.

 

Rick cleared his throat. “I didn't think you'd want me around.”

 

“Shows what you know,” Daryl said, voice rising. “After everything we've been through, all the shit he did to us... Why the fuck would I want him to mess things up with you on top of it all?”

 

Daryl stared with a set jaw out over the prison yard. He could just have been keeping watch, but he wasn't. He was trying to sound like he didn't care one way or other.

 

“Well, I'm done with that,” Rick said. “I can't keep doing it. I—I need you.”

 

“You've got me,” Daryl said about as soft as his voice ever got.

 

“No,” Rick said and shook his head. “I don't. He took that away.”

 

“He's dead,” Daryl said shortly. “Made sure of it myself. So how the fuck can he have taken anything away from you when we're both standing right here?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

Daryl shook his head. “Naw, man. See, I don't think you get it. Bastard didn't take anything. He just made you think he did.” Daryl finally turned to face him. “You spend all your time thinkin' you fucked me up and you can't see that _he_ fucked _you_ up.”

 

“This isn't about me.” Rick shook his head.

 

“Yeah, it is,” Daryl said. “You're up here 'cause you got a conscience needs clearing. Well, get over it. Ain't nothin' you need to feel bad about, far as I'm concerned.”

 

Rick had to clear his throat again. Anything to get rid of the lump in it. “I can't help it. I can't stop seeing it,” he said. His voice was raw like he had a bad cold.

 

Daryl didn't say anything for a minute. Then, just, “Yeah.”

 

Daryl understood. He was the only one who could. That was why Rick needed him. Couldn't lose him. Rick didn't realize right away that he'd mumbled that last part out loud. _I can't lose you._

 

“Shit, man,” Daryl mumbled. He reached out and patted Rick on the shoulder awkwardly.

 

Rick turned toward him. He wanted to rest against Daryl and know that things were alright. Just for a minute. Daryl squeezed his shoulder and Rick let himself move in closer. They stood close as two people could without actually hugging or kissing. Maybe Rick would've gone in for one of those, just to try it out, if none of the shit with the Governor had happened. Now he didn't have the right to make that kind of move on Daryl.

 

“What do I gotta do to show you I'm alright?” Daryl asked in Rick's ear.

 

“Nothing,” Rick whispered. “I don't expect you to be alright. And don't try to tell me you are. You're not eating, barely sleeping.” Daryl flinched, but Rick knew it was the accusation that Daryl was less than unfeeling, that he might be what Daryl saw as weak even though no one else did. “I just want... just want you to let me help.”

 

“And how the hell d'you think you're gonna do that?”

 

“I don't know,” Rick admitted. “But I'm gonna start by being here, if you'll let me. No more looking the other way. No more keeping my distance.”

 

Daryl was quiet, but Rick could hear him breathing deep. Rick continued, “I gotta hear you say it, Daryl. Say I can stay.”

 

Daryl nodded once, a tight movement, his whole body tense. “You can stay.” A pause. “You damn well better or I'm gonna hunt your ass down.”

 

Rick smiled for the first time in weeks. That sounded like the Daryl Dixon from before all this mess.

 

“What are you grinning about?” Daryl frowned.

 

Rick shook his head. “Nothing. For once it just feels like things are gonna work out.”

 

Daryl didn't disagree with him.

 

They didn't need to say anymore. They just stood side by side and kept each other company in the quiet until the sun rose to a new day. 


End file.
